


Caged

by ceasefire



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Immobility, Objectification, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2012-07-20
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceasefire/pseuds/ceasefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Toue takes over Midorijima, Sei finds himself trapped in a cage designed especially for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caged

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the objectification kink square on my kink_bingo card. Follows the canon of Koujaku's bad end, but Koujaku and Aoba are only mentioned in passing.

This wasn’t what he’d wanted.

When he’d first sent the mail that had put all of this into motion, he’d been filled with hope. Aoba had come to Platinum Jail, Aoba had made his way to Oval Tower, and for a while it seemed like he’d finally be free.  
Aoba had failed. They had both failed, and now there was no chance of going back.

It was a little bit ironic, a little bit painful to think about the fact that Aoba now lurked below Midorijima — beneath the ground, amongst the shadows, but more free and powerful than he could ever be. Although he was finally out in the open air and under the bright light of the stars, somewhere he’d wanted to be for as long as he could force himself to remember, he was still trapped. He would never be free.

The glass case was as big as his old room had been, but to Sei it felt more like a coffin, like he’d been buried while he was still breathing. If he’d been stronger, if he hadn’t been so frail from the years and years of immobility, he would have been able to smash the glass and run until his legs gave out and he collapsed under his own weight. He couldn’t do that, and Toue knew it; this was a prison Toue had designed especially for him, to remind him of his limits and what he could and could not do alone.

People milled around him; they spoke of him, always spoke of him and stared at him with the empty, broken gazes of those who had long since lost their sense of self. They never spoke to him. To them he was merely a novelty, an object to be admired from a distance, and they would never – could never – help him escape.

Sometimes he could swear that he could hear Aoba’s voice in his mind. He always spoke softly, reverently, as if he was talking to a lover but desperately wanted everyone to hear their secrets and feelings. The sound of Aoba’s voice echoed through his brain until it almost overwhelmed him, making his head ache so badly that he could barely open his eyes. No one helped him when it hurt, and when it did the only thing he could do was muster all his strength to roll onto his stomach and lie face-down amongst the sheets and blankets they’d laid out for him, to try and ignore the situation and the pain until he fell into fitful sleep.

The only people allowed inside with him were Virus and Trip, and even then he was never sure if he’d ever see them again when they left for the day. Toue didn’t like letting other people touch him, and everything he let Virus and Trip do was out of necessity. While Toue was busy, they were the ones who clothed him, bathed him, fed him, rolled him back over if he tried to escape from the gazes of the onlookers. He didn’t bother resisting anymore. A week of refusing food had earned him a feeding tube, shoved uncomfortably into his nose and down his throat to give him the nourishment he’d refused to take. After that, he’d resigned himself to the fact that it was hopeless to want to die before they allowed him to.

The last they’d visited, he’d managed to crawl from his blankets and to the door. He’d refused to sleep and gradually made his way to the door; it had taken him hours, and afterward he’d felt so weak and ill that he was sure he’d collapsed against the door. He’d been awoken the next day with a sharp pain in his side, the sharp edge of the door digging into his skin and Virus and Trip hovering over him. Their eyes were still focused and their personalities still intact, but there was a vagueness beginning to edge into their expressions. Sei knew this look all too well; they were slowly falling to Aoba’s power. It happened to everyone eventually.

They’d moved him back to his usual spot without a single word and dressed him in something dark to cover the bruise. He’d begged them, out of reflex and habit more than anything, to kill him and had been ignored. They’d talked to each other through his pleas as if he wasn’t speaking at all, casually discussed how angry Toue would be if he caught on to the bruise’s origin. They didn’t even ask him to lie for them.

This was something he’d have to learn to live with, but never accept.

He’d be nothing but a novelty until they allowed him to die.


End file.
